POP MUSIC : Into the Whirlpool : Seal’s ‘Crazy,’ written after a spiritual sojourn in Asia, set the pop world spinning and plunged the singer into a period of self-doubt

It’s not unusual for a songwriter to quote lyrics from a song, or even sing them to express a point during an interview, but the words are usually from one of the artist’s own compositions.

That’s why it’s surprising when Seal, one of the most heralded pop arrivals from Britain in years, begins singing the lyrics to someone else’s song in a conference room at the Warner Bros. Records complex here:

A strange boy is weaving

A course of grace and havoc

On a yellow skateboard . . .

An imposing, muscular man with dreadlocks and a probing gaze who seems taller than his actual 6-foot-1, Seal delivers the words slowly and softly, studying a reporter’s eyes for a sign of recognition.

“Joni Mitchell,” he says suddenly, smiling as he ends the mystery. “It’s not one of her biggest songs. . . . It’s on the ‘Hejira’ album. But I love it. She’s my musical heroine. . . . Her music is so warm, so personal.

“If anyone has had a particular problem or experience, you listen to her music and as sure as the sun will shine, you’ll find a line in her songs that will hit home.”

A few minutes later, Seal again resorts to singing lyrics, this time more loudly, to salute another influence. This tune, however, is easily recognized: Bob Dylan’s “The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll.”

You who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears

Take the rag away from your face

Now ain’t the time for your tears.

“Dylan is another one,” Seal says, the enthusiasm showing on his face as he leans back in a chair. “He’s a master with words and ideas. . . . Like Joni Mitchell, he makes you feel like he is someone who has been there with you.

“There’s almost a sense of therapy in the music. That’s why most of my songs do have a positive tone . . . even things that might sound melancholy. If you listen to them enough, you’ll see the hope in them.”

Seal, 29, entered the pop scene last year with such a passionate and enticing single that you’d think he had spent all his life preparing for the moment.

“Crazy,” an exotic mix of swirling soul-rock dance textures and socially conscious lyrics, had a confidence and vision reminiscent of the early soul-pop ambition and aggression of Prince and Terence Trent D’Arby.

The record had much of the pop world singing along with his lyrics:

We’re never gonna survive

Unless we get a little crazy . . .

Q magazine, England’s leading pop journal, called Seal a “charismatic” performer whose debut album “demonstrated unequivocally that he also has the talent to match his statuesque presence.”

Sure enough, the album’s eclectic approach, ranging from the acoustic blues currents of the anxious ‘Whirlpool” to the rock fibers of the striking “Killer,” stamped him as one of the artists to watch in the ‘90s. Even if the lyrics were a touch clumsy in places, there was a strong sense of emotion to every track.

It was the “Crazy” single, however, that earned him two Grammy nominations earlier this year, one for best pop male vocal and one for best new artist of 1991.

Though he lost in both categories, Seal’s performance of “Crazy” on the Grammy Awards telecast helped stir enough interest in the album to push it back up the charts.

In the week after the telecast, the album--which had climbed into the national Top 30 last fall before slowly dropping down the charts--jumped from No. 103 to 56. Estimated sales to date: more than 700,000.

Given all that has been happening to him, Seal (real name: Sealhenry Samuel) appears subdued as he sits in the conference room, reflecting on the events that led to his dramatic pop rise.

Seal always liked music, but he didn’t begin thinking about a professional career until four or five years ago--and even then things went slowly as he tried to figure out just what it was he wanted to say in his music.

After a few years of college and work outside the music business, Seal began toying in the late ‘80s with the idea of a music career. A few home demo recordings landed him a production deal, but there wasn’t anything really distinctive about the music, he suggests.

He was still searching for an inner musical voice when he went to Japan in 1989 as the singer with a soul-funk band called Push that specialized in James Brown tunes. At the end of the tour, Seal traveled extensively in the region rather than return home to England.

“I ended up staying in Thailand for about 6 1/2 months,” he says, sipping coffee and appearing far more reflective than the macho stereotype suggested by the tight black leather pants and chest-baring shirts favored in his stage shows.

“For someone who had never been on that side of the Equator before, it was a real shock . . . to see these other cultures.

“Mostly, I suppose, it gave me the time and freedom to assess what was really going on in my life and ask myself if I wanted to be in music and, if so, what I wanted to say. I learned a lot of things about myself. I sort of became much more aware of spirituality.”

It was after returning home that he wrote “Crazy.” It was the first time he felt he had really captured a piece of himself emotionally.

Looking back, Seal says the idea for the song grew out of all the social change in the air at the turn of the decade, from the tearing down of the Berlin Wall to the student uprising in Tian An Men Square.

“I didn’t know why all these things were suddenly happening, but maybe it was that people were becoming more socially or spiritually aware,” he recalls.

“For me, it was a sign that people can make a difference if they take a stand . . . and that people should be encouraged to express themselves freely . . . as those students did in Tian An Men Square. They shouldn’t be intimidated by the fact that other people might accuse them of being crazy or abnormal. I was saying it’s OK to be crazy . . . or to be different . . . to stand up for what you believe.”

It was a point that hit home in Seal’s own life--because a music career was the last thing his parents ever wanted for him.

Seal’s parents were born in Nigeria and moved to England, where Seal and his five brothers and sisters were born. There was always a lot of music in the house--his father, an interior decorator, was a big Bob Marley fan, though the supply of albums ranged from Dionne Warwick to Stevie Wonder. Yet the emphasis was on education in the strict, working-class home in London.

“My parents were very much into the fact that the only way I was going to make good in my life was becoming something like a lawyer or a doctor,” he says now. “As I got older, I didn’t really know what I wanted to do.

“I studied architecture for a while . . . to please my parents, but I found it wasn’t what I wanted to do so I took a course in electrical engineering and found that was another waste of time.”

At that point, Seal, by now in his early 20s, dropped out of school and got a job in the fashion industry, starting as a cutter for a leather manufacturer.

“My father was dead by that time, but I think in the eyes of my mother and my relatives in Nigeria, I was seen as this kid who was wasting his life or whatever.”

Ever since his teens, music was a private pleasure. In his room, he listened over and over to albums--Stevie Wonder and Jimi Hendrix are among other favorites--as a form of therapy or release.

“That’s what a good album or good artist is all about. . . . It lets you escape for a few minutes from a troubled world . . . the pressures. It’s not that I had any more problems than anyone else. I was like anyone else . . . constantly seeking answers to questions about who I was, what I was going to do.”

Even before “Crazy,” Seal generated interest on the British scene by co-writing and singing in 1990 on the hit single “Killer,” which was released under the name of his collaborator Adamski.

To make his own album, he teamed with producer Trevor Horn, who has worked with such varied acts as Rod Stewart, Yes, ABC and Frankie Goes to Hollywood. “Crazy,” the first single, shot to No. 2 on the British charts, making him the talk of the British pop scene.

Along with the celebration, there were also difficult moments.

“Yes, there have been pressures” he says, his face suddenly tensing. “The song on the album that is probably the closest to me is ‘Whirlpool,’ which was written after the success of ‘Crazy’ and so much was happening.

“It really was like a whirlpool for me. . . . Not so much the public attention, but more private things. . . worrying about how the album would be received and dealing with the question of whether the songs were any good or not . . . and coming to grips with the fact that you are worthy. It’s really a period of self-doubt.”

The success of the album--which won three awards, including male artist and best album, in the British equivalent of the Grammy competition--has reassured Seal, who plans to record his second album in England before beginning his first U.S. tour in May.

But the success has, if anything, humbled him.

Despite the frequent musical comparisons to Prince and D’Arby, excellent artists who worked hard initially to develop mysterious or cocky images, Seal seems unusually down-to-earth.

“I feel I am still beginning in many ways,” he says with no trace of false modesty when asked why he doesn’t put his own lyrics on the album sleeves.

“When I think of people like Joni Mitchell and Bob Dylan and Stevie Wonder, I realize I haven’t mastered the art of lyric writing. In fact, I don’t really think lyrically that I can ever get across exactly what I am trying to say. I’m just trying to express my true feelings.

“And that’s the test of a record for me: whether it conveys the feeling or the emotion I’m feeling. . . . To me, that’s the duty of the singer-songwriter . . . to convey that message--to say, ‘Hey, I do understand and that you aren’t alone and that you’ll be OK.’ ”